<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>like we're the only fish in the sea by orphan_account</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26467741">like we're the only fish in the sea</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>something new [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Aquarium Trips &amp; Bonfires, Eddie Kaspbrak POV, Established Relationship, First Dates, M/M, Post-Canon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:41:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,179</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26467741</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>richie and eddie go on their first real date. walls crumble down, eddie has a little bit of a crisis about a stuffed shark, richie attempts to feed said stuffed shark a home-made s'more, and everyone is having a good time.</p><p>based on the four word prompt "list, fire, shark, cookie"!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>something new [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913032</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>like we're the only fish in the sea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>thank you so much to ely for beta reading this !! you mean the world to me &lt;3 </p><p>this is a gift to my very funny and good friend rory who gave me the prompt "list, fire, shark, cookie". hope u like it i love you !!</p><p>please do not clown the author on his lack of knowledge on california aquariums he is from the east coast</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>for a little while, and especially at the beginning of eddie's trip, there had been a weird sort of awkwardness between them. richie and eddie, that is, at an awkwardness level that they're really not used to. a stilted end to an argument or a joke fallen flat were normal, maybe, but not this... wall that had been put up between them. a translucent, towering wall that had stopped them from being intimate with each other. now that eddie has gone through at least half a year of therapy, he's confident enough to give it a name. he calls that wall "fear".</span>
</p><p>
  <span>it's not that they were scared of one another. they aren't, seriously -- they've been best friends for years (minus the gap in between, though that gap in particular did cause some problems for the first few months post-it) and dating for a decently long while, so logically he shouldn't have been scared to see richie at all. the things he's said to richie on the phone are things he has never said to another person, for better or for worse, but he meant them all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>unfortunately for eddie (and richie, as well) his brain doesn't really work on things like "logic" and "doing whatever he wants", because he deals with things like "repression" and "absolutely one of the worst cases of anxiety someone has ever seen," or whatever his therapist says. he's working on getting better. for richie's sake as much as his own, he wants to be able to do the things he's dreamed of since he was a kid. and, well, more than that, obviously, because he's a grown adult now and he has needs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>nonetheless, kissing richie last night felt like he lodged a brick in that wall loose. like the wall isn't as stable as before. now he can see through that hole that he made just enough to really see richie on the other side, without the translucent sheen, and watch him desperately trying to make this good for eddie and not ask for too much at the same time. it was a simple kiss, a small, unassuming one, but it meant just enough to push them through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>and then he kissed richie again. and again. and again and again and again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>they're still not there, yet. not at 'completely comfortable with this whole relationship and the fact that it is both with my childhood best friend and gay' level, but that's only something years of therapy can fix. it's still fresh, new, but it's not awkward anymore. eddie has been on vacation at richie's for three days now, and it's like a dam has burst: he's kissed him on the cheek while they're making dinner, through morning breath right after they've woken up, whenever. against the wall, on the couch, even in the pool, once, when richie tasted mostly like chlorine and a little like peach schnapps -- something eddie had fought him on how much he would like it, but at the end of the night decided it was better than he expected. only partially because he had mostly tasted it after richie drank it, but you know. semantics. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>richie woke up before eddie today. it's not unusual; richie's both a surprisingly light sleeper and a morning person, which is the opposite of how he was in high school. eddie is trying to stay in bed a little later because he's on vacation, but he usually wakes up when his body realizes it's searching for a warmth that has gotten up an hour or two ago to go and make breakfast. he lies there, shirtless, for three to four minutes before he finally relents with a groan and pads over to the bathroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>he brushes his teeth. showers. he can hear richie humming along downstairs to some pop song he's blasting on the radio. it must be something new; eddie only partially recognizes some of it, like he's heard it once or twice on the drive to work but not internalized it yet. richie's voice is accompanied by the clattering of pots and pans, the occasional rushing of tap water. just as eddie's flipping the shower water off and climbing out, he hears a decently loud yelp and another clatter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"you alright?" he calls, wrapping the towel over his head and scrubbing his hair dry. he has a technique he likes to call "very fast and kind of painful," which leaves his hair dry fast but pretty fucking knotted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"yeah!" richie calls back, voice still loud through the open bathroom door -- eddie doesn't bother closing it while he showers. richie has the key, anyway, which eddie found out a night ago when he thought he was about to live through the shower scene from alfred hitchcock’s psycho. richie had just wanted to brush his teeth, he didn't even realize the shadow of the toothbrush looked a little like a knife.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>he runs a hand through his hair and decides that the gel isn't worth it. richie likes it better when it curls at the edges, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>he dresses himself for the day, something comfortable and casual, and makes his way down the stairs and into the kitchen. sure enough, richie's there, multitasking with several different pots and pans and also half-heartedly attempting to stop the beeping sound his coffee machine is making all at once. eddie slides behind him and presses the buttons for him. he doesn't make fun of him, it's an absurdly complicated machine for something that just makes juice out of beans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"good morning," richie says, and turns to smile at him. he's holding a spatula up in the air and it's dripping batter off the side. just as it's about to fall, he hovers it back over the pan and it lands with a sizzling noise, "i'm making, uh, pancakes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"youre sure?" eddie says, leaning over the oven to see what's going on. there are two pans that certainly have pancakes on them, some are chocolate chip and some without, and there's a pot full of a boiling, sticky liquid. it might be red? the shading of the pot makes it look sort of brown. "what's that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"homemade syrup. it's, uh," richie turns back to his laptop thats sitting on the counter next to him. he makes kind of a funny face as he reads the ingredients, "cherry. i figured you'd think the store-bought stuff is too sweet? but i also think it's a capital offense to have pancakes without syrup, so i had to blur some lines there."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>eddie wants to kiss him. he presses up on his toes, balances with a hand on richie's shoulder, and kisses him on the cheek because he can. richie smiles a little bit, his face dusted pink. he's shy, when it comes to these things. the contrast between his loud, attention seeking personality and the way he slinks into himself like a turtle when eddie does anything slightly sweet. it's endearing, in a way -- but eddie also thinks richie deserves to love and be loud about it. he leaves the hand on his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>they chat idly while richie works. it's amazing how well he can multitask; his movement is smooth as he flips pancakes and stirs the syrup when it starts to bubble. eddie's not really sure how making syrup works, but he doesn't think it looks necessarily bad. it just kind of looks like goo. which is, conveniently, the correct texture for things like syrup. richie flips the last pancake onto the plate and eddie realizes the chocolate chips make a half-melted smiley face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"that one's for you," richie says, when he catches eddie staring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>richie splits the pancakes into two different plates while eddie sets up the breakfast table. once richie's done splitting up meals, he puts them on the table and starts to finish whatever's he's got to do with the syrup. his tongue sticks out while he's focusing on pouring the syrup into a gravy bowl (which eddie is marginally surprised richie owns at all, but apparently it was a gift from his mother after she begged him to host "just one thanksgiving, richard, come on," which richie says in quite the offensive voice impression) and eddie wants to kiss him again. he would, if it wouldn't risk getting cherry goo all over the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>the syrup is really, really good, actually. he doesn't pour as much on his pancakes as richie does, but it's enough to soak through the bread-y texture of the pancake and make the whole thing taste like a chocolate covered cherry. it's definitely not a flavor eddie would've expected he liked for breakfast, but he's working on trying new things, nowadays. like being open about his feelings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"holy shit, richie, these are good as fuck," he says, through a mouthful of pancake. richie grins and swallows down his bite before he speaks, because he knows eddie is a hypocritical ass who will yell at him for talking with his mouth full.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"they're just pancakes," he says, and cuts through another slice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"good fucking pancakes," eddie mumbles, and richie lets out a startled laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"hey, so," richie says, and eddie directs his attention towards him instead of the pancakes, "i actually have something for us to do today." he puts his fork and knife down on the table. eddie slides a bite of pancake through the remaining cherry syrup on his plate. it makes a swirling red pattern across the white, and eddie almost subconsciously tries to make it look a little formal. like he's eating at a fancy restaurant with plate decor. richie pulls out his phone and continues talking, "i made, like, a list of stuff we can do in la. together."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"yeah?" eddie bites the piece of pancake off his fork.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>the entire time eddie's been in la, they've been hanging out at richie's house. not even to go out to dinner; all they've eaten is takeout or shit that's "homemade with love" that's usually just richie experimenting with pre-made recipes until he gets something edible. eddie is not bothered by this, not by a long shot, because he's happy to just exist in the same space as richie. also richie has air conditioning, which is a definite plus. "what's on it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"there's some stuff we've already done. i wanted to swim, at least once, so we did that. getting high is on there, but i don't know if you'd be...?" his sentence trails off. he makes eye contact with eddie and raises an eyebrow. eddie swallows his food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"yeah, maybe. not smoking it though, i don't want shit in my lungs."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>richie nods, "totally. we can bake cookies, or something."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"you can bake?" eddie asks, and richie nods a little more enthusiastically. he assumes that means it's better than his cooking, which, judging by last nights dinner and this morning's breakfast, is going to be fucking amazing. maybe even taste like something other than weed. the only edible eddie ever had (once, in college) tasted pretty much like eating sour dirt. his roommate had said it was a chocolate chip cookie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"i'm gonna check the weather and then start throwing out suggestions. there's no point in doing like," richie gestures wildly, and then seems to land on what he wants to say, "outside shit if it's going to be thunderstorming. or grossly hot."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"it's always grossly hot here," eddie says, and fans himself for dramatics. richie chuckles a little bit. under his breath, it sounds a little bit like he says 'only cause you're here, fuckin' asshole,' but eddie could be projecting. he smiles at richie anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"ok, sweet," richie says after a few minutes of silent scrolling, and then, "what about the aquarium? there's one in, uh, santa monica. it's like half an hour away."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>eddie hums. an aquarium sounds nice. he hasn't been to one since, hell, maybe college? he doesn't remember if he's ever been to one, actually. he's got vague memories of huge tanks of water and eating little bits of shrimp out of a cup, so it might've been a school trip. maybe in middle school -- something that faded away out of importance, only vibrant flashbulbs coming back when he's hit with something particularly nostalgic. the clown magic put a weird haze over any memories from that time. after it's death the memories have stayed, but the haze has lingered. unbreakable and made thicker through time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"that sounds good," he says, and then he's suddenly hit with something: "didn't you used to be obsessed with sharks? like a whole year or two of elementary?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>richie looks confused, but not in disagreement. he raises his eyebrows, so eddie keeps talking, "maybe it was just an obsession with aquaman and his weird talking to animals thing, but i swear to god you had like a giant shark stuffed animal you slept with. you would never fucking admit it, but richie, that thing never left your fucking bed. what else were you doing with it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>richie's face, at some point between "aquaman" and "stuffed animal" lit up like a fucking christmas tree. he's grinning now, one of those smiles reserved for thinking back on fond memories of things you used to really, really love, like an old pet dog or a game played on the playground. "god, i loved that thing. i think my mom threw it out the second or third time we moved. that poor lil guy got gross, dude, and he would not fit in the washing machine."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>eddie laughs. maybe he'll buy him a little one at the aquarium gift shop today. like a souvenir. something nice. "let's go, rich, it'll be fun. i've barely seen the outdoors since i got here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"hey, your ride from the airport doubled as a tour! i even did a voice! besides, it's not like you've been fucking complaining,” richie huffs, “i thought you liked hanging out with me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"i was just saying! i was not complaining!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"sounded like it!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>and scene. the back-and-forth of 'did not!' 'did to!' continues for almost the rest of breakfast, intertwined with basic planning shit: where exactly they're going, how they're going to get there, and no, eddie doesn't need a raincoat, because the shows they're doing where the animals splash a bunch of water on you are either a) inhumane, and richie's not going to pay to see them, or b) unavailable, much to eddie's dismay. not that he wanted to get splashed with water, but who can avoid wanting to succumb to the childish wonder of seeing wild animals do cool tricks? not eddie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"you are such a dork," richie says, but it's fond as ever. eddie stands up and takes their plates away to clean them off. over the kitchen island, richie is shouting animals that they might be able to see and animals that aren't actually available -- the pond where you get to pet the baby rays and tiger sharks seems to be open for business, but richie says that despite what the website says, the tank is usually closed for cleaning more times than not. eddie gets it. all those kids shoving their hands in the water; it can't be great for the animals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>once breakfast is cleaned up and richie has decided he's had enough of listing random facts from the website (about the aquarium, now, not even the fish) they both head upstairs to get changed. like children, they turn their backs on each other, but eddie gets a split second glance of the muscles in richie's back and almost loses his cool right there. he recovers, and when he's got the go ahead to turn around he does with a smile. he kisses richie again, just because he can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>eddie drives. richie drove last time, and even though eddie hates richie's stupid car he much prefers to be in the driver's seat. he likes the control. richie makes a joke about being a "hot blonde in a passenger seat of a guy's corvette" and eddie says something along the lines of "you aren't blond, and this isn't my corvette," and richie blushes anyway. all eddie has to do is imply that he's hot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>eddie, grinning, turns up the radio. he lets richie pick the station, and he lands on something that exclusively plays classic rock. together, they make their way to the aquarium.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>when they're pulling into the parking lot, richie is halfway through a complicated half-lecture half-rant about something eddie's pretty sure richie's not even following anymore. the topic has changed so many times that eddie hasn't exactly kept track from point a to point b, but he's understood enough to say things like "oh, really?" and "ok, that makes sense," and even the occasional "that's bullshit, richie," at the right times. he's still talking when they make it to the ticket booth, but he loses his train of thought when he hands the woman behind the glass his wallet. he shakes his head to try to gather his thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"what was i talking about?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"dude, i really have no idea," eddie says, and they both laugh. the woman smiles when he hands his wallet back and two orange wristbands. they move to a nearby bench, and richie fumbles while trying to put his band on until eddie finally takes pity on him and wraps it around for him, taking care smoothing down the sticky plastic so it doesn't get stuck in his arm hair. now, still holding richie's wrist limply in his fingers, eddie has to make a choice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>he could, very easily, hold richie's hand here. it is literally right there, a few centimeters away from his own, so it isn't a physical issue; it's the wall, again. this isn't as much the translucent part between them but the foundation, built up by years of trauma and only destroyed and refurbished by a good therapist and a lot of hard work. this isn't eddie choosing whether or not he wants to hold richie's hand, this is eddie trying to figure out if richie is going to freak the fuck out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>richie is, as far as he's come this past year, still a little finicky about private displays of affection. it's no skin off eddie's back. he can't believe he even gets to have richie at all, let alone in a romantic context, so he'll take what richie's comfortable with giving and be with him the entire time when he struggles through stuff he's not. this is public, though, which is a whole new ballgame. eddie's a little nervous, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>richie hasn't come out yet, not to anyone but the losers and his manager. he's so close, his new set is almost done and it's fantastic and gay and open and very, very, richie, and that's all that matters, but it hasn't happened yet. so obviously eddie will understand if richie doesn't want to do this, because they could be caught by paparazzi, or seen by a fan, or anything along those lines, and the last thing he wants is for richie to -- "eds, you alright?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>eddie looks up. richie's staring down at eddie's hand around his wrist, cheeks dusted pink and nervous looking. eddie wants to pull his hand away, to tell him that it's alright, they don't have to do anything richie's not comfortable with, when richie flips his hand around and grabs at eddie's wrist. the foundation of that wall shifts, a little bit. a cloud of dust poofs off the side. it's not exactly holding hands -- he pulls the fingers off richie's wrist and richie backs off like he's been burned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"no, like," eddie says, mostly to himself, and then tangles their fingers together before richie can get too far away. richie makes a noise. he wants to tease, say something like "have you never held hands before, idiot?" but he's a little worried richie's answer would be 'no', so he bites his tongue. "is this okay?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"yeah," richie says, and then immediately looks towards the entrance of the aquarium. he squeezes eddie's hand a little tighter and starts walking. eddie smiles and follows him, because he always does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"where to first?" eddie says. richie's clearly got a destination in mind, by the way he's walking quickly past the first few exhibits and into the main section of the building. they take a few quick turns and eddie tries to get a little glance at some of the smaller fish closer to the entrance, but he mostly gets flashes of bright colors blocked by masses of seaweed and other underwater plants. there is a very large crab, at one point, but eddie gets the chills if he looks at it for too long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"the tunnel," richie says, and then glances back at eddie and slows his pace a little bit. they're walking side by side, now, hands clasped in the middle. one of them -- richie or eddie, or maybe even both, has very sweaty hands. eddie does not mind as much as he thought he would. "the one that's a huge tank you can walk through. last time i came here i was like, high out of my mind, and i just sat in that tunnel and stared at the fish above me and it felt like i was actually at the bottom of the sea."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"i think you'd die if you were actually down there," eddie points out, just to be an ass, "it's super high pressure. you've seen what it did to that blobfish thing, it's fucking exploded corpse is a meme now. you want your exploded corpse to be a meme? all bloated and gross?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"what a way to go out," richie says, and then laughs out loud. "i think it'd be fitting. my fans would be like 'yeah, that makes sense. trashmouth was probably meant to die that way,' and move on." eddie glances up at one of the signs next to them. it advertises penguin exhibits if you keep going the way they're going. he would very much like to see those. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"i'd be pissed if you died like that," eddie says, and richie levels him with a strange look. "i'm serious. don't die first, either, or i will summon your ass back as a ghost just to beat the fuck out of you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"whatever you say, spaghetti." richie grins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>they take a few more turns and then they're there: the tunnel, clear as day. eddie doesn't think he's ever seen one of these before. it towers over them, surrounding them on all sides with water and yet completely the opposite of claustrophobic. there are several different types of fish -- small, large, ones that are stuck to the glass and eating off of it and others that are definitely different types of sharks, judging by the fins. he looks up just in time to see a large stingray fly overhead, and he watches the way it's wings ripple through the waves of clear blue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"cool, right?" richie says, and pulls them farther in. he's illuminated now by the pale blue glow of the tank instead of the florescent lights inside the aquarium. it almost adds this ethereal look to him. like an angel; the light reflecting off his hair almost creates a halo, in a way. eddie can see the tank reflected in his glasses. "oh, wait, look!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>eddie looks. at the bottom of the tank to their right there's two fish -- almost catfish, maybe, but they have two fins on their back and a tail like a shark -- lying next to each other on the tank floor. they're cuddled up very closely, and occasionally the one on the right will knock it's tail against the other. "what are they?" eddie asks, and he can feel richie shift a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"nurse sharks. i used to love them. they sleep like that, all cuddled together."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"so you were jealous?" eddie says, and snickers a little. richie scoffs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"no, i wasn't jealous! i just thought it was nice. you're a dick," he says, and shoves eddie a little. eddie reels back from it and stands a little closer, practically brushing shoulders with richie when he stabilizes. eddie watches the nurse sharks move again, shifting together across the sandy tank floor and throwing up clouds of tan when their tail swings a little too hard. "you know they're soft?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"aren't all sharks?" eddie says. out of the corner of his eye, he can see richie shake his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"nah, they're like, uh," he starts to gesture with his hands to portray something kind of jagged, and then stops when he realizes he's dragging around eddie's hand, too. eddie smiles at him, watching him watch the sharks, now, "their skin is usually made up of these weird small, uh, skin... teeth? so it feels more like sandpaper, but nurse sharks don't have that," he says, and then continues to explain. eddie likes listening to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>he thinks, sort of randomly, that richie is built for radio. his dream has always been comedy, and he's good at that, but richie has a voice that carries. one that's built for telling stories, for explaining things that other people would think to be obsolete. even the simplest fun facts sound nice when richie's the one telling you how things work. maybe in another universe, one not so far from this one, richie is working on the radio. he wakes up late at night or early in the morning so he can have a slot that lets him swear, kisses eddie on the cheek before he goes, and then spends the whole time talking about whatever he wants, answering calls and listening to stories from other people and then adding his own sort of flair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>in this universe, the one slightly to their right, eddie knows he definitely tunes his radio to richie's station whenever he's on, even when he should be sleeping or getting ready for an early shift at work. maybe he gets up earlier than usual just to listen to the sound of richie's voice through the radio on his commute, laughing along with him the same way he would if he was sitting in the passenger seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>he squeezes richie's hand a little tighter. richie squeezes back, never breaking his focus on his explanation. a subconscious reassurance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"they're called something like the couch potatoes of the sea. the funniest thing is, though," richie says, and his voice gets a little high pitched like it does before he tells a joke he's really proud of, "they're not named for being really nice sharks that act like, y'know, nurses of the sea, though you would think that. the name nurse shark apparently comes from the," and then he puts on a voice like he's reading an academic article to a class of students, which forces out a laugh from eddie before he's even said the words yet, "sucking sound of their powerful throat muscles." he drops the voice. "which is probably why i was obsessed with them in middle school."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>eddie, without missing a beat, says: "sounds like you've got a lot in common," and it shocks richie so badly he almost slams his head against the glass. his attempted recovery sends them both into a fit of genuine hysterics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"how the fuck would you know," richie says, when he's recovered enough to speak. he takes a step back from the glass to avoid any future injury, both to him and the glass that separates them from something like 10 thousand gallons of salt water. his face is a shade of bright red, but not it's not an embarrassed color like it usually is. eddie, still grinning from ear to ear, shrugs. "fuck off," richie laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"maybe later," eddie says, and richie makes a pained sort of face. he pulls on eddie's hand until they're both walking again, down through the tunnel and to the next exhibit. the manta ray floats above them again. a smaller one is trailing behind it now, flapping its wings a little harder than the one in front. eddie smiles up at them and turns back to focus on walking ahead. "hey, can we see the penguins?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"yeah, sure," richie says, still a little choked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>the tunnel leads them to the outside exhibits, where things like penguins and otters are hiding out. eddie's pretty sure they've got polar bears, too, but he's not sure if they'll be outside with how hot it is today. the penguins aren't far from the initial tunnel, so they take their time looking at the sea otter exhibit (richie even names a few, pointing and grinning at the ones holding hands and floating on their backs in the water. he decides, eventually, on bill &amp; ted, which makes eddie incredibly fond) and then make their way over there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are a lot of penguins. most of them are swimming, but some larger ones are clamoring around on a rock and flopping over each other. two of them, around the back of the pen, are huddled together. richie pulls eddie over to the sign and starts reading the description out loud. "humboldt penguins," he says, and then starts listing some random facts. apparently they're average size and from south america, which explains the resistance to the hotter weather. their population is also rapidly decreasing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>there's a sign near the side of the pen that says "good penguins of the day" and, underneath "naughty penguins of the day," each with a respective smiley or sad face. accompanied with pretty unflattering pictures of each, it looks like rory and parker got extra fish for good behavior, and a specifically mean looking penguin (eddie only says that because it looks like it has eyebrows that are caught in a constant downturn, and in retrospect it's a little hypocritical) named dexter is getting publicly shamed for stealing fish. eddie thinks dexter should be allowed to do what he wants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"if i was a penguin," richie starts, and eddie is confused for a solid second or two before he realizes he has, in fact, not started reading the facts in first person, "would you steal fish from me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"what? no. we would share," eddie says, completely seriously. richie turns to him and has this weirdly fond smile on his face, and eddie is in love with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"i think i'd steal your fish," richie says, and eddie scoffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"what the hell, man! i just said i'd share with you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"yeah, but it would be funny to see your little penguin body get all mad," he says, and points at one of the penguins that's lying down. another one is tripping over it, and the one below is starting to make loud squawking noises and bite at the one above it, "see?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"i think you're an asshole," eddie huffs, and richie's fond smile shifts into a wide grin. the second penguin climbs over the angrier one and settles down next to it. they both shift a little, their round little bodies made for squishing together, and eventually they curl up in one another and fall asleep. one of them squawks one more time, just for good measure. richie laughs at the sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>the rest of the aquarium trip is nice. they go through the exhibits and see everything they wanted to see; richie gets to see the jelly fish, in their glowing, upright tube of a tank, and eddie gets to touch the stingrays, despite a lot of internal debate about how much he wants to put his hand in that tank. he does with great trepidation, but once he feels the smooth skin of their back and gets gently splashed by a wing, he's like a child let loose. he beckons for them to come closer, cheers to himself when they do. richie watches him the whole time, grinning and laughing. saying "i am!" each time eddie says "look, richie, look at it!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>when they're leaving, hands still clasped, richie's bracelet rubbing up against eddie's bare skin, richie says: "did you like it?" and eddie says: "i always do."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>they stop at the gift store. eddie lets go of richie's hand for the first time that day; says "i want it to be a surprise," when richie whines about it, and leaves him to go look for a present to buy. he mulls over the selection of gifts, the store isn't very big, but it's got a lot of small things inside of it, key chains, snowglobes, strange magnets with sharks that have bobble-head-like tails. there's a particularly large octopus plushie hanging over one of the shelves that has a price tag of over 500 dollars, and eddie stares at it for a few minutes just because he's amazed they can even price anything that high. plushies, he reminds himself, he wanted to buy richie a shark plushie. he makes his way over to the selection of smaller ones, animals with that are mostly anatomically correct save for the glitter in their eyes and vibrant color of their skin. he picks up a blue shark -- maybe supposed to be a great white? -- and flips it around in his hands. the price tag says 15 dollars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>he looks behind him to see if richie is watching. he's not, he's posted up facing away from the gift shop but still leaning on the glass of the window. if a passerby were to walk by and describe him, they would probably say he looked like a disgruntled dad, waiting for his kid to pick out a toy so they can get in the car and leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>eddie has this vision of richie with kids, laughing together as they fuck around in the aquarium gift shop until the attendant yells at them to pick something and buy it or get out of her store. richie would laugh and say something mockingly stern in a goofy voice, and the child's laugh would sound a lot like his, boisterous and full-body. they'd pick out a toy and leave, and richie would apologize anyway for making a ruckus because, despite all of his wild personality, he's genuinely, overwhelmingly kind. eddie's shocked, suddenly, at the heat of his face brought there just by the prospect of 'richie' and 'kids'. he grips the shark a little tighter in his hands and makes his way to the counter. buys it and wraps it tightly in the bag, hidden out of sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"what'cha get?" richie says, and raises an eyebrow at the look on eddie's face. eddie does not take the bait, nor does he want to tell richie his surprise. he holds the bag a little closer to his chest when richie reaches out for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"you'll see it when we get home," he says, and ignores richie's whining. neither of them comment on the usage of home. richie may not have even noticed, but eddie will think about it later, wrapped up in richie's blankets, in richie's bed, next to richie's snoring body, and he will smile unabashedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>on the ride home, richie plays something akin to 20 questions to try and guess what eddie bought for him. no, it is not something you can eat. yes, it is soft. no, it is not a fridge magnet, richie, i just said it was soft? ok, well, i've never had a soft fridge magnet, what the hell are you talking about? yes, it is a sea animal, we were at the aquarium. no, it is not alive, i am not an insane person. richie never actually guesses what it is, but after 10 or so questions eddie suspects he's not really trying to. he's just seeing which questions get the strangest reactions out of eddie, or the ones that make him laugh, etc. eddie doesn't mind. richie could've opened the bag the moment they got in the car, anyway, he did put it in his seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>when they pull into the driveway, richie has started trying to guess the color of the object. he listed every single color he could think of (and managed to skip over blue, which eddie thinks is amazing), and is now making up new names for colors that don't actually exist. eddie pops open the car door and richie follows, still listing off gibberish words up until eddie gets the key in the door and clicks it open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"now can i see it?" he says, as soon as the door has swung open. eddie sighs, nods. richie pulls the bag out of his hands like an excited child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"it isn't all that exciting," eddie says, crossing his arms over his chest. richie shrugs him off and makes his way to the couch, leaving eddie to toe off his shoes and lock the front door alone. "take off your shoes!" he calls, and richie shouts his understanding but never actually stops to do it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"oh, eddie," says richie, once eddie's stepped into the living room. richie's holding the shark in his hands like it's a newborn puppy. his hands wrapped around it's middle almost engulf it completely -- only the tail and the head are visible from where eddie's standing. "he's my son now, this is my son."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>eddie laughs. he strides over to richie and sits on the armrest of the couch. leans his arm on the back of it and rests his head on richie's shoulder. richie tenses up for a split second, a moment's hesitation, before he relaxes and leans in to the touch. "what's your son's name?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"baja blast," richie says, with zero hesitation. eddie coughs out a surprised laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"baja blast?" eddie repeats, incredulous. richie looks up at him and grins. they're close enough now that if eddie leaned just a few centimetres forward their noses would brush. he can see all the individual freckles on richie's face, splattering like constellations across his cheeks. as a child eddie had always had the urge to connect the dots -- draw lines between them with colored marker and see what design would appear. he's starting to understand that urge, now, 27 years later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"yeah, dude, doesn't he look like a baja blast? tell me he doesn't look like a baja blast," richie turns more fully towards eddie, shark still held a foot away from his body, "look me in the eyes and tell me his name isn't baja blast."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>eddie laughs. he pulls his arms up and places both hands on either side of richie's face, says "his name is baja blast," and when richie starts to respond he closes the distance and kisses him square on the lips. richie laughs into it, opens his mouth for him with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>when they break apart, eddie still cradling richie's face in his hands, richie gently places the shark next to him on the couch and wraps eddie up in his arms. he falls into richie's lap sideways a little awkwardly and richie's elbow is kind of painfully jabbing into eddie's arm, but he laughs and lets him maneuver until they're both in a more comfortable position. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"you got anything else on that list you want to try?" eddie says, wrapping his arms around richie's shoulders. richie rests his hands on eddie's hips and thinks. eddie's pretty sure he's pretending to think; thinks he knows what richie's going to say, as eddie's creeping closer and getting more and more intimate as the seconds pass, so forgive him for being a little shocked when richie says:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"oh, bonfire!" and squeezes eddie's waist once before he flips him off his lap and stands up. eddie sits there, shell-shocked about the topic change for a second, before stuttering back to life with a shake of his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"do you have a firepit?" he says, grabbing for baja blast and moving him to the table so he doesn't accidentally get crushed. richie flips around from where he was pacing to face eddie, smiles, and immediately turns and points to the large glass door to his backyard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"do i have a fire pit," he says, mockingly, "of course i have a fucking fire pit. everyone with a backyard has a fire pit. the real question is," he flips around again, facing the kitchen now, "if i have stuff for s'mores."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"i don't think that that's necessarily true," eddie says, but he's only lived in apartments his entire adult life, so he can't really argue. not that that's ever stopped him before. "i'm sure there are people with backyards that don't have fire pits. is there like, what, a fucking manual that says you have to have one? a rule book for owning a house with a decent sized backyard?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>eddie can hear drawers being opened and closed in the kitchen. the clash of silverware, once, twice, and the noise of richie yelping when he closes a cabinet door on his fingers. the sink water rushing. richie dropping something plastic on the counter. "i don't know about you, but i think there should be. maybe i can write it," more silverware noises, "you know the shit about the lawns? how like, the lack of biodiversity is actually shit for natural life and that these boring, flat green yards that everybody wants are terrible for the earth?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"no?" eddie says, and richie scoffs. he walks back into the living room with his hands full of snacks: marshmallows, graham crackers, dark chocolate hershey's bars, something that looks like a bag of food but eddie's not exactly sure what it is, and a few cans of beer sort of precariously balanced on top. eddie shoots to his feet to grab the cans before they fall, holding them close to his chest to avoid any accidental dropping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"the virgin lawn monoculture vs the chad biodiverse prairie," richie says, or at least eddie thinks he says, because he very well may have hallucinated the entire sentence. eddie stares at him like he's grown two heads and richie scrunches up his nose. "let's fuckin' go, i've got logs and shit outside already."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>eddie nods, he opens the door for richie with great struggle and an almost-tragedy of great proportions (read: eddie almost dropped a beer can on the floor, which would've promptly exploded and splashed beer all over richie's carpet, and then richie said something along the lines of 'there's probably a lot of beer in there already' and eddie had leveled him with a look no less powerful than an actual gunshot wound) and richie makes his way through the steps of setting up a bonfire. eddie watches him, offering his help several times, before he realizes richie's going to shoot him down no matter what and then settles on a chair. richie's only got poolside chairs, so they lounge a bit. eddie thinks that, as he makes himself comfortable, if he lays on it for too long he'll fall asleep. it's not overwhelmingly hot outside now that the sun is setting over the horizon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>he's never been to a bonfire. they'd talked about it, when they were kids, going camping and making s'mores over the fire while they talked about life. running away and living on the land. eddie would've never really done that. the feeling is nice, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>eddie opens his eyes again when he can hear richie say "oh, shit!" and then hears a few crackles and pops of wood. the smell of the bonfire is more powerful than he expected it to be, and the burning wood scent is quickly becoming overwhelming. not in a bad way, though, it's a comforting smell. like coming home after a long day. richie cheers when it pops again. with a dramatic whoosh, the fire becomes huge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"oh, shit!" richie repeats, and then he's darting back to the house and through the glass door. eddie has a panicked few seconds where he think he should run, too, like richie's done something wrong and left him behind to get burned and explode, but richie comes back. he comes back with a smile on his face and baja blast in his hands. he sets the toy shark down on the chair across from eddie's -- far enough away that it won't get hit by a spare ember -- and hops back over to sit with eddie. "scoochies"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"scoochies?" eddie chuckles, but slides over as far as he'll go. they're a tight fit, two grown men sitting in one lounge chair, but they make it work. eddie's arm is wrapped around richie's back and he's not really sure whose legs are whose anymore, but they are, in fact, sitting in this chair together. baja blast looks kind of sad alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>eddie leans up and kisses richie's neck, light and closed-mouth. richie makes a little noise. "we can't make s'mores like this, dude," eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"let me have this for a minute," richie says. eddie does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>the fire burns. it's crackling and waving in the wind. eddie's pretty sure only wet wood makes some of the noises this fire is making, but he's not surprised richie wasn't 100% prepared for a sudden bonfire in the middle of the afternoon. he squeezes richie's waist a little tighter and richie leans into him. they lie like that for a while. together. the sun sets. eddie closes his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"alright," richie says, struggling to get out of eddie's grip and up out of the chair. eddie opens his eyes again, whines, but lets him go. he watches richie stumble to his feet, flatten down his shirt and shorts. richie takes a second to walk over to the opposite chair and toss baja blast precariously over to eddie, who (thank god) catches him with no issue. he snuggles him up to his chest. "you want a s'more?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>eddie doesn't, not really. he doesn't like marshmallows very much, and the idea of a marshmallow graham cracker sandwich seems too messy for eddie's tastes. he's also never actually had one, so instead of overthinking it, he says "yeah, sure."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>eddie is right. he doesn't actually like the s'more very much. it's sticky and weird and crumbles into a million tiny pieces when he bites it, and he doesn't get more flavor than burnt marshmallow (richie had roasted all of them, saying he 'knows how to do it best' when he burns the outside and leaves the inside soft and gooey. eddie has no real argument on the 'best way to make a marshmallow,' because he doesn't like them at all) but he's happy that he tried it. richie's eaten two by the time eddie's finished one, and he's busy roasting a third marshmallow "for baja blast," he says. eddie doesn't really think baja blast needs a s'more. when he expresses these thoughts to richie, richie acts like he's told him he hates his real actual child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"he's my son," richie says, with a stern voice. eddie laughs, "you're laughing? you're telling me to starve my son and you're laughing? what makes us deserve a s'more any more than he does?" the light from the flames is making patterns of orange across his face, flickering in and out and changing the shape of his face purely through placement of shadows. he looks almost animated from where eddie's sitting, staring at him in the faint evening light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"do sharks even eat anything other than meat?" eddie says, watching as richie swirls the marshmallow over the fire. the tip has lit in a blue flame, and it's slowly bubbling up and turning brown. richie grumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"yes," he mumbles, "baja blast does."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"alright," eddie says. richie can't keep himself together -- not for long, anyway, and eddie watches in real time as his face shifts from something like faux-anger to delight. he pulls the marshmallow closer and blows on it until the fire goes out. squeezes it between two pieces of graham cracker and places it on the table next to eddie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"he doesn't get any chocolate, though. it's bad for him," richie says, like anything he's done in the past few minutes has made any sense at all. eddie nods along like he understands, and richie smiles at him. he motions towards eddie and eddie hands him the stuffed shark, and richie's careful when he places it on the table next to the s'more. "okay, enjoy that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"i'm sure he will," eddie says, "you fucking weirdo."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>richie tries to fake a frown, but he's grinning too hard to actually manage the expression. he lands somewhere between "pained cringe" and "fond smile" and it makes eddie laugh out loud. eddie opens his arms until richie groans and falls into them face-first. the weight of richie on top of him is something he would've thought to be overwhelming, but it's comforting. like a weighted blanket. he curls a finger around a particularly curly strand of richie's hair and watches it bounce.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"you've got marshmallow on your face," eddie says, when richie shifts to look up at him. richie cocks his head to the side, questioning. his glasses are pressing awkwardly into his hairline. eddie reaches up and adjusts them first, then brings his hand down and wipes across richie's bottom lip with his thumb. he could have easily told richie where the smear was and he would've gotten it off himself -- but he's also gay and in love, so sue him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"oh," richie says, quiet. eddie wants to laugh again. instead, he maneuvers until he can reach richie's face with his own and kisses him, short and sweet. and then again. and again. smiling into it, he lets the last one linger. it isn't a kiss that has to go anywhere, one that expects something, it's just nice. slow and gentle, despite the awkward angle they're sitting at. richie laughs into his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"i thought this would be harder," eddie says, without thinking. richie pulls his head back far enough until they're just barely touching. the eye contact makes eddie's eyes cross. "i didn't mean to say that out loud."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"what'd'ya mean?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"i don't really know," eddie says, and he's telling the truth. richie rubs a comforting hand in the spot underneath his shoulder, almost between his shoulder blades. eddie huffs. "i guess, like, just having you. i thought i'd freak out a lot more than i do."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"you freaked out a lot in the beginning," richie says. he's right, too, eddie had a lot of trouble with the idea of dating richie, let alone having a long-distance relationship with him, when all of the statistics he's read on the matter (yes, he researched the statistics of the chances a long-distance relationship will last, alone at 4 in the morning and desperate for some sort of confirmation that everything was going to be okay. no, he will not be admitting this fact to richie anytime in the next forever,) claim that they really don't last, unless you're really lucky. or really in love. maybe eddie is a little bit of both. "i wasn't much help," richie concedes, looking a little sad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"you helped the most out of anyone," eddie says, and then, because he can, "i think you're just easy to love. it wasn't hard, falling into this. i think i'm just used to doing it more... quietly."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>it's out of eddie's mouth before he can really think about it, but he realizes pretty quickly that that's exactly it. he's loved richie his whole life -- even when he didn't really know who he did, or who he was, trapped between memories and locked somewhere deep within himself: flashes of buck teeth and glasses in his dreams that had him waking up panicked. vague memories of laughing and sharing comic books, shoving at each other just to be able to touch. he's loved richie since before he really knew what that meant, the gravity of that situation. falling into a romantic relationship was easy because it was one step above what they already had, even if they had to relearn a bit in the beginning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>the expression on richie's face would be unreadable to anyone else, but to eddie it's clear: he's in awe. genuine surprise. something along the lines of amazement. eddie wants to shake him. to grab his face and knock his brain around in there until he gets it. how can't you see? how did you miss me loving you all these years? what makes you feel like it's still an impossibility? i love you. i love you. i love you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>eddie grabs richie's face between his hands and shakes once, impulsively, and then leans down and kisses him hard. richie makes a shocked little noise into it. leans up on his hands for a better angle; one that eddie isn't breaking his neck over. it makes eddie want to kiss him all over again. he pulls back instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"you're so good," eddie says, and kisses him one more time. it's chaste and richie chases it when eddie pulls away again, making him laugh, "thank you for letting me love you like this. i was so scared i wasn't going to be able to do it right."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"eddie," richie says, a little choked, and then he's crying. eddie lets him, wraps an arm around his back and pulls him closer to his chest. his shirt gets wet and kind of gross right under his chest, but it's the last thing on his mind. the fabric of richie's shirt (bright orange, with pictures of little monochrome sharks in a chaotic pattern) is soft under eddie's palm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>eddie, while rubbing richie's back, uses his free hand to turn baja blast away from the scene. richie laughs out a garbled sound. "can't let my son see me like this."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"that's not why," eddie laughs, and shakes richie a little bit. this moment is for them. private. it feels a little silly turning a stuffed animal away from it, but he doesn't want anyone intruding on this. "i love you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"god," richie says, and it's mostly breath. he snuggles into eddie's chest (or he's wiping his nose on eddie's shirt, but he's giving him the benefit of the doubt for now) and looks up at him with a wobbly smile, "i love you too, jesus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"eddie's fine."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"shut the fuck up, man. i’m lucky to have you at all," and then they're both laughing. eddie wraps his hands around richie and pulls him as close as he can be. shakes him back and forth like a child with a new stuffed animal. richie goes limp in his arms, lets it happen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>the fire crackles and pops in front of them. embers fly off in all directions, shooting out quickly and floating slowly to the ground. the whole backyard is bathed in this gentle orange light. the air smells like campfire, but it's strongest where it sticks to richie, the scent attached to his clothes like a magnet. all of it together, richie on top of him, baja blast to his left, the warmth of the fire blending with the humidity of the night, all of it feels like home.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>check me out on twitter @transkaspbrak!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>